Page 14

The next day, I trek alongside Rex with my head down, avoiding his gaze. I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. My first kiss. I press my fingers to my lips, remembering the thrill of his mouth claiming mine.

And that feeling of wanting to belong to him, almost needing it, grows by the minute.

Rex glances over occasionally, eyes questioning, but he doesn’t push about what happened, just gives me space like he promised.

By midmorning, he releases a harsh, bone-rattling cough that makes us both flinch. My eyes snap to his face, narrowing. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He waves me off, trudging along.

But the hacking coughs become more frequent as we walk, a fine sweat now covering his face. I stop, my arms crossed and mouth thinning into a grim line. “Rex.”

“Christ, Devon. It’s just a cold. Stop brooding.”

I stare holes into the back of his skull as he shuffles on. My hands clench and unclench at the uneasy memories of my father insisting “It’s just a cold” too.

Right before he died.

I hover close as we walk and Rex huffs. “Christ, Dev. Said I’m okay.”

“You’re lying.”

He shakes his head once, a brief, dismissive jerk.

My hands ball into fists at my side, nostrils flaring. “You’re not invincible.”

“No shit. But it’s a cold. Just need to find somewhere to get some sleep. It’ll pass.”

He’s right. We need to find shelter. The longer he’s out here, the worse it could get.

The trail gets steep, and our footing unstable. As we push on Rex breaks out into a coughing fit and I wrap my arm around his waist when he doubles over. “Let’s take a break.”

“Stop fucking hovering like a mama bird.”

He pulls away and continues on, leaving me standing there.

“Asshole!”

He flips me off without turning around. With a growl, I jog to catch up, clipping his shoulder as I pass him.

“Really? You’re going to be a brat?”

I spin around and walk straight up to him, getting right in his face. “You said you wouldn’t leave me.”

He reaches up and cups my chin, his features softening. “Promise you, it’s just a cold.”

My eyes close and I let out a deep breath. “My father.”

“He died?”

I nod then open my eyes and look right into his. “He’s the reason I freaked out.”

Rex’s brows lift and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Oh?”

Taking a moment for myself, I try to find the courage to open up, to trust him. “He . . . hurt me. A lot. Since I was little. Called me things too. Sometimes . . . sometimes I can’t tune them out.”

It’s all I can admit too.

Swallowing becomes hard, as if my throat is closing off, and my body tenses the longer I stand still.

“Glad he’s fucking dead.”

He steps closer and kisses my forehead, before resting his against mine. “I won’t ever hurt you, Devon. And I’ll damn well make sure no one else does either.”

I press in closer to him then smirk. “But you’ll still spank me right.”

“Fucking, Christ. Do you have to ruin the moment?”

“Yup.”

Then I pull away and continue along the trail.

Two hours later, we come across a small city. Not ideal. Carrionites could be lurking. But Rex is deteriorating.

“No scouting. Just stay on the outskirts and see what we can find.”

I nod.

Shortly after, we find a small warehouse and bunk on a cot in the manager’s office. It’s not the warmest, or the safest, but it’ll do.

We crawl into the same sleeping bag as we’ve been doing. Mostly to keep me warm. But Rex tosses and turns throughout the night, his coughing getting worse, and neither of us end up getting much sleep.

Dim sunlight soon filters under the door and I crawl out of the sleeping bag, shivering instantly.

Rex shifts, clearing his throat. “We should get moving.”

“No. You’re getting worse. Let me scout some. Find us a house to hole up in for one more day.”

When he nods without protesting, my stomach drops, throat tightening. This is bad.

Real bad.

“Rest here a bit more.”

I squeeze his shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.”

He lies back down, his glassy eyes closing.

Reluctantly, I creep away, quickly glancing back to find Rex passed out. He looks like death warmed over.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Outside, the cold wind slices through my jacket like fucking knives. I have to find medicine and shelter. Fast. There ain’t nothing in this shithole world taking him from me.

Not after letting him get close.

I leave the warehouse district and head toward the burbs with all the cookie-cutter houses. It’s dead quiet, but I stay alert. Can’t let my guard down, not even for a second.

Some places like this can have packs of wild dogs roaming, and they’ll hunt people. Just like Carrionites.

I sweep through a few houses, scoping out food, water, and insulation. I also ransack the kitchens and bathrooms, digging through cabinets for anything useful. Most have been picked clean already. But I find a thicker blanket without holes and some wool socks. The medicine cabinets got jackshit except a few near-empty bottles. I grab every one, not knowing what the hell they’re even for. Rex can sort that shit out.

Next couple blocks, more of the same. Just scraps here and there worth taking. In the last house, I hit paydirt, spotting a bottle with some green cough/sleep shit left in it. There ain’t much, but I swipe that too.

Time to haul ass and get back to Rex before the sun sets.

After shoving the medicine in my pack, I slip out the back door and ease it shut.

A voice makes me scramble off the porch and crouch behind the piss-poor fence.

Some asshole calls out again. Another dickhead answers him.

They’re talking about my footprints.

I’d stuck to the sidewalk, careful not to leave a trail in the muddy ground. But I must’ve fucked up somehow.

My father’s voice rags on me. He trained me better than that. Would’ve made sure to punish me for fucking up. Might’ve even sacrificed me as bait to get away.

As they sweep the house, I hop the fence, then book it down the alley.

I’m not sure if they’re Carrionites or just random scavengers but I gotta shake these pricks before returning. I double back a few blocks, leaving some fake trails, then circle to the warehouse.

Rex is right where I left him, bundled up on the cot, looking like shit. But he’s still breathing. That’s what matters.

I clear my throat instead of shaking him awake. Last time I tried that, he almost choked me out.

“Rex,”

I call out.

He stirs a little but doesn’t open his eyes.

I say his name louder, and he cracks one eye open, glaring at me.

“Found some shit.”

I dump out all the pill bottles, making a pile next to his cot. “Might be antibiotics here. I dunno.”

He hauls himself upright, looking like hammered shit. His hair’s sticking out everywhere and he’s got dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. The fever’s flushing his face and neck red too. He looks miserable as hell.

“Let me see,”

he mutters, voice all raspy.

He grabs the bottle of the thick green cough syrup first, tipping it to the side slightly and frowning at the bare mouthful left. Setting it aside, he sorts through the various orange and white bottles. “Gabapentin. Furosemide. Tamsulosin. Ha! Don’t need that yet.”

He tosses a big white bottle my way. “Multivitamin. You should probably be taking those.”

He sorts through the rest. “Citalopram. Metoprolol. Huh. Zolpidem.”

He hesitates over that one, looking contemplative.

I stop pacing. “Will it help?”

“It might, for sleep anyways. But Ambien fucks me up,”

Rex grumbles, tossing it aside.

“Don’t care. The coughing is keeping you up. You need to sleep, so take the shit.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

My fists curl tight, knuckles blanched bone white, pulses hot and unwanted in my gut. “Like fuck. It’s a big deal. Take the pills and get some rest.”

A hint of a smile plays on his lips. “Bossy thing, aren’t you?”

I don’t find it amusing, not when the coughing fit that follows leaves him hunched over and rubbing his chest.

“We should move somewhere warmer. This place sucks. Spotted some houses that might do.”

I don’t mention the real reason I wanna get the fuck out of this building.

Those two pricks are probably out there right now still trying to follow my trail. And if they find us and Rex is knocked out from the meds, he’s a sitting duck.

His eyebrows draw together as he stares at the ground, his jaw set. “All right.”

I pack up the sleeping bag, then lead the way to the most insulated house, shouldering both packs despite Rex’s protests.

If he notices the way my eyes dart around rapidly, constantly scanning our surroundings, or how I flinch at the slightest sounds, he doesn’t mention it. Then again, he’s barely dragging himself forward, fatigue written across his face.

My stomach twists into knots again, the bitter taste of fear flooding my mouth.

Rex is going to die.